


The Holiday

by LSquared80



Series: Merry and Bright [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas in Westeros, F/M, Holidays, It's Christmas but not in a religious way, Stories based on various holiday themed movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Brienne trades houses for the holidays, wanting to escape a recent tragedy in her life and be alone. She ends up stranded with a handsome stranger.This chapter is based on the 2006 movie "The Holiday." Each chapter will be a stand-alone story.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Merry and Bright [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564570
Comments: 25
Kudos: 151





	The Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing holiday themed stories and the time between now and December 25th is my favorite time of year, but I'm not a religious person. That is the type of Christmas that exists here since it obviously doesn't fit in with the theology of the GoT universe. I have several ideas for short stories based on holiday movies, or movies that are holiday adjacent, and hope to post once a week between now and 12/25. For this alternate and modern world, Christmas is more about the time of year and traditions than any type of religious observance.

The flight to Winterfell was long enough for Brienne to reconsider her decision to swap houses with a stranger. She had let Podrick and several glasses of wine convince her to sign up for the service as a means to survive her forced leave of absence during the holiday season. “It will be a change of scenery. You can recover,” he’d said. 

After completing an application and paying a membership fee, Brienne was accepted and matched. It only took a few clicks of her mouse before she was set to spend two weeks in a remote cabin referred to as the Lion’s Den while a man she knew only as T. Lannister lived in her apartment in Storm’s End. 

“A cabin in the middle of nowhere?” Podrick had balked. When he’d made the suggestion, he’d imagined Brienne in a beach house along the coast of the Summer Sea. He’d thought sun and sand and a perpetually shirtless Dornish neighbor would distract Brienne from the trauma of the on-duty death of Renly, her friend and partner. But she wanted to be alone, just not at home surrounded by reminders of her loss. Of the botched drug bust that ended with Renly on the ground, bleeding to death, and all of the suspicion that had fallen on her after. 

Brienne closed her eyes as the plane bounced through bad weather, second-guessing her decision to be isolated during a time she already felt alone and exiled. 

* 

Snow dusted only the grass and rooftops of Winterfell, but the cab driver said more snow was in the forecast. She asked to stop at a grocery store and got back on the road, noticing fewer and fewer houses and storefronts the further they drove. The road narrowed, surrounded for miles by acres and acres of woods until she could see a structure in the distance. 

The cab came to a stop at the peak of a slight hill. “Here it is,” the driver said. “I would normally tell a woman to be careful out here alone, but I suspect you can take care of yourself.” 

She exited the car and made three trips to get her luggage and groceries to the small porch. Brienne paid for the trip and was left alone at the Lion’s Den. 

The single-story cabin was smaller than she imagined from the photographs, but no less charming. The exterior was a dark wood and one large window occupied almost the entire front wall. Once inside, she saw that the stone chimney matched the fireplace and the interior was an interesting combination of rustic and modern – wood plank ceiling, red velvet sofa, record player, walk-in shower, eclectic and expensive looking art on the walls. The bathroom was the only area separated by walls; the bed was tucked into a corner near the wood-burning fireplace. 

Brienne set the grocery bags on the small counter space. She refrigerated the perishables but left everything else – boxes of cereal, popcorn, wine – to put away later. Instead, she stepped onto the back porch and admired her view of a frozen creek surrounded by rocks and tall, naked trees. Brienne took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air and decided she had made the right decision. 

* 

Her first night in the cabin, Brienne put a record on and poured a glass of wine. She filled the clawfoot tub with warm, bubbly water and took a long bath. She ate a bowl of cereal and watched a movie from the bed, falling asleep until she woke to the gray light of morning. 

The first full day, she took advantage of the fair weather and hiked into the woods. Brienne sat by the fire and read. She answered an email from T. Lannister, telling him she was in love with the cabin and the woods and hoped he was enjoying her apartment just as much. She took another bath and cooked spaghetti and watched the entire first season of a television show about a time travelling knight. It was then, when she was ready for bed, that Brienne saw the first snowfall. 

She turned to the window and tipped her forehead against the glass, watching the large flakes collect on the ground until everything was white. It snowed all night, and she woke to frosted windows and added several logs to the fire and warmed her hands around a mug of coffee. 

* 

The only sign of Christmas was a string of lights around the roof. Brienne turned them on accidentally, discovering they were all one color when the small bulbs poured red light on the snow. She had flashbacks to the night Renly was shot and flipped the switch, never to touch it again. 

When she rummaged through the linen closet looking for a lightbulb, she found a child’s piece of artwork – a large sheet of red construction paper with a snowman made of cotton balls and a tree made of green pipe cleaners and colorful pompoms. She left it on the shelf. 

Brienne was not surprised by how much she enjoyed the complete solitude the cabin afforded her. Being alone was nothing new. She had her father and a small circle of friends, and it had grown even smaller after Renly died. Aside from a few disastrous dates, she had no romantic life to speak of. It was cathartic to grieve her friend in the middle of nowhere – she could sob without shame and scream into the woods. 

* 

A record was on the turntable, playing moody music she could hear in the bathroom. Brienne stepped under a hot stream of water in the shower, letting it saturate her hair and sluice down her back. The steamy air was fragrant with the clean, sea salt smell of her soap. She rinsed the lather from her skin and turned the water off, immediately bothered by what sounded like knocking. 

Brienne attributed the sound to the music, but the record stopped playing and she heard it again. _Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock, knock._

She stepped out of the shower and grabbed her robe and cell phone. She tied the sash around her waist while she made a beeline for the safe hidden away in the linen closet. Brienne’s service weapon had been apprehended, but she’d brought her own personal handgun. She slid her phone in one of the robe’s pockets and held the gun with both hands as she walked with her back to the wall, out of the bathroom to investigate the source of the knocking. 

It happened again, louder, and punctuated by a man’s voice shouting, “Tyrion! For fuck’s sake, let me in!” 

Brienne startled at the silhouette of a figure visible through the gauzy curtain covering the window. She watched the person go from the window to the door and back again, knocking and jiggling the knob. 

“Tyrion!” 

_Tyrion._

_T. Lannister._

She walked to the door. There was no use pretending she wasn’t there when lights were on and a fire was roaring in the hearth. She yelled, “He’s not home!” 

There was a beat of silence before the man said, “Very funny. Tell him to let his big brother in.” 

He moved back to the window, and Brienne could tell that he could see her shadow through the curtain as well as she could see his. She had a loaded gun and good aim, which made her feel safe enough to open the door, leaving a mesh screen between them. “Tyrion is not here,” she said through gritted teeth. 

The man’s eyes narrowed then widened. It was obvious he had assumed, from the height and breadth of her silhouette, that Brienne was male. “Did he go out for more liquor? No amount of snow can stop hi-” 

“He’s not here. He’s not in _Winterfell_.” 

“Then where is he?” 

“If you’re his brother shouldn’t you know?” 

“Come on, give me a break. It’s fucking cold out here and my car slid into a tree.” 

Brienne flinched when the man leaned closer to the screen, out of the shadows. He was far from a monster lurking in the night. He was about her height, with chiseled features and golden hair. His breath was a cloud of frost and the tip of his nose was red. She could hear his teeth chatter. “Fine,” she scoffed, unlocking the door and stepping aside, holding the gun behind her back. 

The man tugged on the door handle and entered the cabin. “I’m Jaime Lannister,” he said. 

“Brienne,” she told him. “Tarth.” 

He extended his hand but she kept hers behind her back. He let the strap of his bag slide down to his elbow and dropped it to the ground. In the light, he seemed to take note of her slicked back hair and realized he’d interrupted her bath or shower. “I’m sorry, Ms. Tarth. My brother didn’t tell me we would have company for the holiday.” 

“I told you, he’s not here. He won’t be here until after the first of the new year.” 

Jaime squinted. 

“Your brother and I swapped houses, Mr. Lannister. He is currently staying in my apartment in Storm’s End.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Clearly I am not,” Brienne told him. 

Jaime raked his fingers through his hair. “That bastard.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. “Look, Ms. Tarth,” he said after a moment, “my car is smashed against a tree. I can’t get a tow truck out here until the morning. I know this is awkward, but I can’t go anywhere. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll sleep in the tub if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“You could call a cab.” 

“No one will come out this far at night. Not in this weather,” he explained. 

Brienne moved her hands from behind her back, revealing a weapon. 

“Oh, shit,” Jaime said, holding his hands up. His heart hammered in his chest. 

“Relax. I’m a cop.” She tucked the gun under the robe's belt and removed her phone from the pocket. 

Jaime’s eyebrows arched. “Tarth,” he said. “Brienne Tarth. You’re the cop from the news. Renly was your partner.” 

Her stomach dropped. “You knew him?” she asked, barely audible as her throat constricted. 

“We were related once upon a time,” he said. “My sister was married to Robert.” 

Brienne snapped out of the daze the revelation had put her in. She kept one eye on Jaime while she dialed and knew he could hear the endless ringing. She dialed another number. Someone answered and she asked, “Could I get a cab at 746 White Harbor Road?” She paused and answered the question posed to her. “Yes, it’s the cabin with the red-” 

Jaime grinned. “They hung up on you?” 

Brienne went into the Uber app on her phone but from the look on her face, he knew there were no drivers in the area. “I’ll call Tyrion,” she said, and Jaime waited patiently while she dialed. To his surprise, his brother answered. After a brief conversation Brienne looked at Jaime and said, “Tyrion said he doesn’t have a brother.” 

"Let me talk to that little shit,” he said, but Tyrion hung up. Jaime’s eyes darted around the cabin. He raced to the closet and returned with a large shoe box and the child’s artwork Brienne had previously found. “I made this,” he told her, touching one of the cotton balls that made up the body of the snowman glued to the paper. 

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even sign your name to it. That proves nothing.” 

He removed the box’s lid and dug through loose papers and photos. “This is me and Tyrion a few years ago standing on the porch,” Jaime said, showing her a four by six glossy print. “And this is me standing right over there after we hung that painting.” He pointed to a large canvas on the opposite wall – an abstract painting with vibrant colors that matched the one in the photograph. “Do you believe me now?” 

Brienne glared at him before finally saying, “I suppose.” 

* 

Jaime emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of black knit pants and his well-worn Lannisport Lion’s T-shirt. “Do you mind if I pour a glass of wine?” 

She responded with a reluctant, “No.” 

He added more to her glass before filling one of his own. Jaime wandered around the perimeter of the cabin while Brienne changed into striped pajama bottoms and a form fitting T-shirt. The robe had been hiding a more feminine frame. The heather gray cotton was tight around her chest, and she noticed the way Jaime’s eyes studied her small breasts; she drew her arms tight across her chest. 

He cleared his throat and said, “How long have you been a cop?” 

Brienne may have agreed to let him stay in the cabin overnight, but she had no intention of making conversation with him. She was there to escape the turmoil in her life, and now someone with a connection to Renly and an awareness of what happened was standing two feet away. His presence made her angry and she barked, “Are you sure you want to stay here with me? Aren’t you afraid I might accidentally shoot you too?” She caught the way he flinched. 

“What? I don’t believe any of what I’ve read.” 

She considered him a long while but ultimately said, “I’m tired,” and picked up her glass. She turned around and carried it with her toward the bed. 

He watched as she turned off the lights and climbed under the covers, pulling them up to her neck. 

* 

Brienne woke after several hours of sleep and slowly sat up in bed to get a peek at the near-stranger on the sofa. It appeared he had just woken; he was sitting, stretching his arms and yawning. She watched him walk to the window and peel the curtain back. 

“Seven hells,” he cursed. 

“What?” she asked, throwing the covers aside. 

“I don’t think anyone is going to be coming or going from here for a while. It’s still coming down,” Jaime said. 

Brienne hurried across the room to look out the window. A fresh layer of snow covered everything. She smeared a circle through the fog covering the glass and realized it was more than a layer; overnight, enough had fallen that she couldn't see all of Jaime’s car where it had crashed into a tree. 

She turned on her heels, darting for the bathroom. She unintentionally slammed the door, a gesture that made her feel rather childish. It was no one’s fault the weather worsened overnight, and it wasn’t even Jaime’s fault he’d ended up stranded there with her. There had obviously been a breakdown in communication. Either way, her plan to ignore him didn’t seem feasible knowing she’d have to share a very small cabin with for at least another day and night. 

“Do you drink coffee?” she asked as she came out of the bathroom. 

* 

The day moved slowly as Brienne made small talk with Jaime, whom she learned was recently fired from his family’s investment firm for tanking their most lucrative account. “The client is a terrible person,” he explained. “I did everyone a favor.” 

She found it a comfort to hear stories of Renly as a teenager. She slowly unspooled the tale of their years together on the force and his tragic death, holding herself together rather well. She found Jaime to be a good listener, and when she had finished her story, he said, “You know, I believe my brother has something stronger than wine around here.” 

He found two bottles – vodka and rum. 

* 

Jaime logged into his brother’s Westflix account. “You only watched the first season of _Ser Arthur_. You didn’t like it?” 

“I was shocked that I did, actually. You showed up and I never got around to watching it again,” Brienne confided. 

“You can’t tell anyone this, especially my brother. But it’s my favorite show.” Brienne laughed and he said, “The second season is the best. Wanna watch it?” 

“If you’ve already seen it...” 

“I don’t mind seeing it again.” 

Brienne carried the bottle of vodka and a can of soda to the table. She left and returned with the two glasses they had been drinking from. She poured them each a hefty amount of the clear liquor and added a splash of soda. She sat down on the opposite side from him, and as the wan light of a dreary afternoon darkened to night, they watched several episodes of the show. Jaime teased her about the male lead’s number of shirtless scenes and she poked fun at him, guessing he preferred the romance to the action scenes. He looked at her through the corner of his eye during a rather passionate, naked love scene and she felt her face blazing bright red. 

Her discomfort made her drink more and faster. Brienne picked up the bottle and was surprised to feel it was empty. “Rum now?” she asked. 

Jaime, equally buzzed, nodded his agreement enthusiastically. “I’ll get it!” 

Brienne turned the television off and he returned with the unopened bottle of rum. He twisted the top off and asked, “What happened to our show?” 

“I can’t really follow along,” she laughed. 

Jaime said, “How about music?” 

She had been resistant to all things Christmas, but she didn’t balk when he selected a record and the first strains of _Rockin Around the Christmas Tree_ began to play. She howled with laughter when Jaime started dancing in the middle of the room, and after downing her drink, she got up and joined him. They moved to the music and passed the bottle back and forth, taking swigs. 

Jaime set the bottle down and grabbed her hand, spinning Brienne in circles. She lost her footing and crashed against him, chest to chest. At that moment a slower song began to play, and with their arms already around one another in an intimate embrace, they began to sway to the music. 

She lifted her head from his shoulder and their eyes locked. Their arms tightened around one another and they lunged for the other’s mouth, teeth clashing and lips bruising. The kiss softened, and Brienne moaned when Jaime’s hands slipped beneath her shirt and skated up her ribcage until he was cupping her bare breasts. His thumbs flicked across her nipples and she clawed at his back. 

They stumbled toward the bed, collapsing with her on top of him. Brienne was drunk, but not enough to remind herself that she’d only ever slept with one man. Renly. Before he came out. She was drunk enough not to care. Not to let it invade her mind and steal away her confidence. 

She peeled the hem of her shirt up and tossed the garment aside. She straddled Jaime, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants. He was bucking his hips beneath her and licking his lips and rubbing his hands along her torso to roughly squeeze her breasts. 

Brienne maneuvered to kneel beside him. While Jaime removed his shirt and shoved his remaining clothes down his hips, she divested herself of her pajama pants and underwear. She dragged his clothes the rest of the way down his legs and discarded them on the floor. Her eyes lingered on his manhood. She didn’t have much to compare him to, but Brienne was certain she was correct in finding Jaime’s cock impressive. She reached out, curling her fingers loosely around him, and the hiss of breath between his teeth urged her to go on. She maintained a light grip and moved her fingers down and up, down and up, until Jaime grabbed her wrist. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. 

“Absolutely not,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I want to be inside you, Brienne.” 

She was weakened by his words but found the strength to straddle his thighs. She yelped when Jaime’s thumb stroked between her legs and rubbed against the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her cunt. Brienne let it go on for a while, but he soon moved one hand to her hip while the other held the base of his cock, and she lifted up slightly while he pressed against her tender flesh. She moaned loudly as he filled and stretched her. 

Jaime reached up, his hands cupped around her face, and urged her to bend toward him. She did, and he opened his mouth around the tip of her breast, suckling and lashing his tongue across the taut skin. Brienne was taken by surprise when he suddenly sat up and flipped her onto her back, settling between her thighs. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered against her neck as he pushed into her, and if she had been completely sober, she wouldn’t have believed him. 

They were both strong enough and drunk enough to fuck with abandon, and there was no reason to restrain themselves vocally; Brienne chanted his name and Jaime groaned and cursed as she quaked beneath him. 

* 

Brienne opened her eyes only to immediately clench them shut. The soft, gray light of morning was far too bright. She waited a moment before opening one eye partway and then the other, adjusting to the daylight. She realized she wasn’t on the bed, but rather on the floor. It seemed she and Jaime had ended up there at some point, tangled around one another and the blanket they dragged down with them. 

She moved and her knee brushed against his cock. Brienne blushed, and reddened even more as the previous night flooded back to her in snippets of kissing and touching and hips thrusting and tongues tasting. If she hadn’t been drunk, she would have never been able to do _that_ with the near-stranger sleeping beneath her, and in the sober light of day Brienne wasn’t sure how she felt about that. 

There was a part of her that worried she was terrible and too inexperienced. The light of day brought all of her insecurities racing back to the forefront of her mind. She lifted away from him, reaching up to grab a pillow from the bed and hug it to her naked chest. 

Jaime stirred and squinted as he opened his eyes. He dragged a hand down his face and blinked several times before his eyes found her. “Merry Christmas,” he said. 

“Oh. Right. Merry Christmas.” 

He scooted toward her. Her leg was bent and part of her thigh peeked out from under the blanket. Jaime kissed the soft, exposed skin and rested his head there. “That was...” 

“Crazy?” she guessed. 

“I was going to say acrobatic. Amazing.” He pushed himself up to his knees, displaying no modesty as he was completely uncovered. “Life affirming.” 

Brienne moved the pillow so that it also covered her face. 

Jaime grabbed the pillow and yanked it away. He leered at her breasts, licking his lips. “You disagree?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “No, it’s just... I’ve never done something like that.” 

“Like what?” He reached up, drawing lazy circles around her nipple until it hardened to a peak. “Had mind-blowing sex on Christmas Eve?” 

She moaned softly in reaction to his touch. “No,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper. “Gotten drunk and had mind-blowing sex on Christmas Eve with a man who is for all intents and purposes a stranger.” 

Jaime smiled and moved close enough to frame her face with his hands. “I don’t regret it.” 

“I don’t either,” she said after a beat, realizing that she truly was glad it had happened. It was the only night since Renly’s death that she hadn’t been plagued by memories of his blood on her hands and the grief that followed. “It’s just... odd.” She considered telling him he was only the second man she’d slept with, but instead said, “I don’t sleep with people I don’t know.” 

“Then get to know me,” Jaime told her. “What else are you going to do here?” 

Brienne glanced toward the window. The snow glistened under a pale sun. For as much as she had wanted to avoid Christmas, she decided it had turned out to be the best holiday yet.


End file.
